Réflexions d'un écrivain

Over the course of the last week, I’ve noticed something of a pattern when it comes to most people. The majority of those that I’ve come into contact with, aside from family, are uncomfortable with closeness, human contact, even the words, “I love you.” And I have to wonder, why is that?

I’m an affectionate person by nature most of the time, I’ll say, “I love you” as freely as “Pass the salt,” hug strangers, even touch a person while I’m speaking to (in a fitting way, that is).

When I was a child, around five or six, I was best friends with a girl a year younger than I. She lived across the street from me and we would play together nearly every day. On one occasion, before saying good-bye, I gave her a hug, a kiss on the cheek and said, “I love you!” She, seeming disgusted, pushed me away, called me gross and avoided me for the rest of that week.

On another occasion, when I was twelve getting my ears pierced for the third time, I hugged the woman who was piercing my ears as a way of saying thank you. She drew back momentarily, then quickly hugged me, seeming altogether frazzled.

Two years ago, when I had my first job, I would to hug my manager to say good-bye before leaving work every day. The first few times, she (my manager) flinched, seeming incredibly uncomfortable, and would only briefly embrace me, then pat my back and gesture for me to leave.

That’s only a handful of my experiences, but here’s the thing I don’t understand, why do we live in a society wherein a person can’t give someone a hug, say “I love you” or show any real form of affection and care without being judged or frowned upon?

Honestly, is it true that most people see human contact as sexual because of what is commonly displayed in the media? Have people really become so inundated with what’s broadcasted by American society that they can’t tell the difference between a friendly hug and a pass made due to sexual attraction? Is it so difficult today for people to see each other as simply human? Are people so superficial that even the remote implication that caring about each other has been lost completely?

Let’s be honest, when was the last time you hugged someone you didn’t know? Smiled and waved at a stranger? Sat with someone who appeared to be having a difficult time? Or even had a genuine conversation with a person that you do know, just out of sheer interest in what is happening in their lives? Have you done any of that recently? Why, or why not?

Lately I’ve been thinking, how does tragedy really affect people? Does everyone truly grow past it, or do some people get emotionally stuck? Do some people stay in the same mindset that they were in during the first happening; reliving the heartache over and over? The simple answer to that is yes. And recently, I realized that I was one of those people.

When I was twelve years old, my parents separated, not legally; my father left my family altogether and four years later, they divorced. It hasn’t even been a year since their divorce, but in some ways, I noticed that I still felt like the sad little girl who just wanted her parents to stay together. It’s odd because my father has never been a prominent figure in my life, in fact, he ignored me, but I still wanted him around because I knew my mother loved him. Abusive and unkind or not, he was still my father and while he didn’t like me, nor I him, he was still apart of the family.

Now, at the age of seventeen, I find myself feeling determined. Determined to succeed, despite the hurtful things my father did or said–despite the things anyone has ever said to discourage and/or hurt me. Unfortunately, not everyone had a life as I have with one solid parent who refused to let them fall apart–when it came to anything.

To better explain my point, I recall one event when I was about fourteen, still mourning over all that had happened with my father leaving my mother, two of my siblings moving out and rejecting me, my mother and my other brother, leaving the house I’d spent the last twelve years in and plenty of other things that I couldn’t even talk about yet, when my mother looked at me and said, “You are not allowed to fall apart.” Confused and still upset, I just gave her a look that meant, “What do you mean I can’t fall apart?” Knowing me well enough to decipher my facial expressions, she repeated “You just can’t, you don’t have the time to.”At that time, I was more hurt by everything else that was going on to truly understand why she said that and on some level, I just thought she was being insensitive, but I get it now. Three years later, no less, but I do understand and that’s what’s important.

You can’t allow the things that other people do prevent you from going where you need to in life. No matter what happens, pursue your dreams, grow past the unwise things that people do and understand that everything is going to be okay. Even if you’ve hit rock bottom in your life and have no one there for you, know that the universe is knitting and re-knitting itself together and lining things up for the best things that you can fathom.

Being it is that I’ve never been nominated for an award (until recently) for my blog, my understanding of the rules are a little sketchy. Since I’m probably not the only one who is unaware of the precise actions one ought to take upon receiving of an award, the rules are listed as follows:

The Liebster Blog Award Rules:

1.Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.

2. Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.

3. Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.

4. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 5 blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed.

5. Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment at their blog.

Here are some blogs that I greatly enjoy and I hope you’ll find them just as inspiring and/or humorous as I do. 🙂 Take a look at them here:

Recently, I was cleaning the refrigerator with the help of my older brother when we came across a few ambiguous food items. As usual, my brother passed me a container of food and said, “Hey Kris, smell this,” and not thinking any better, I did as he asked.

Now, here’s the thing, the food looked relatively normal, smelled ever so slightly questionable, but I still wasn’t entirely certain. I smelled the food a second time, then a third, and finally, I tasted it to give me a fitting answer. The curried lentils that were once oh-so-delicious were now rotten and very distasteful to say the least. Needless to say, I spat the stew out into the garbage can and followed it with several mouthfuls of palatable food and a glass of water.

This is not the first time I’ve done this with leftovers from the fridge. Seven out of ten times the food has been fine and yet, the few times the food has been disgustingly horrid have not stopped me from testing by taste and not odor. The funny thing is, my albeit temerarious behavior has earned me the title of “brave.”

Later that day I found myself thinking, how brave and intelligent was it really for me to taste the food as opposed to utilizing the adage, “When in doubt, throw it out,”? In hindsight, I’ll say I should have thrown the food out; however, then I would have said, “How am I supposed to know whether or not it’s still good if I don’t taste it?”

The line between being courageous and being unwise for some people is blurred. Not just applying to the freshness of food, but I find that gallant acts must not only be decided by the feasibility of the action, but also the possibility of an unpleasant taste.

For as far back as I can remember, I’ve loved science fiction. When I was a kid, I used to sit and watch the Sci-Fi Channel on television for hours at a time and sometimes all day long. Star Wars, Star Trek, The X Files, Xena: Warrior Princess, Scare Tactics, Alphas, Ghost Hunters, Fact or Faked, Battlestar Galactica and plenty of other shows that I can’t recall the titles of anymore. Presently, I don’t watch anywhere near as much television as I used to, but I must admit I still love science fiction just as much. I read science fiction novels and spend about three hours a week watching it (generally over the course of three to four days).

Since January of last year, I’ve been watching an American remake of a British science fiction series called Being Human. I tried watching the original version, but I find it less interesting. Not to say that I don’t enjoy British television (I watched a great deal of that in my youth as well); however, I find the American remake less redundant in terms of camera angle usage (I have an older brother who is cinema savvy and I now lack the ability to watch a poorly directed film anymore).

There has been something of a running gag about me, saying that the only reason why I watch Being Human is because Canadian actress Meaghan Rath plays a major role in the show. Of course it’s well-known that I’m too much of a science fiction addict to let an attractive actress be the sole driving force of my viewership; however, I won’t say that doesn’t add to it. 😉

With a face as adorable as this one, can you blame me?

Truth be told, I watch the show for the special effects, engrossing plotline, Montreal scenery and impressive cinematography. Even if the actors and actresses looked like undead zombified trolls after they’ve been dragged through seven miles of broken glass, I would still watch the show. Why? Because I like it. The show is awesome and I hope the ratings stay as positive as they are now to keep it on the air.

P.S. I must apologize to you dear reader(s) for this change in my posts. Generally, I post meaningful things; but considering the clock has ticked past midnight and the only thing I can hear is the abrading sound of my neighbor’s snoring, my somewhat sleep deprived self had to let you into the strange recesses of my teenaged mind. My next post will be more relevant to life. I promise. I can also promise that I’ll think back on this very soon and say to myself, “What the heck was I thinking? Why on Earth did I post that?”

How do you handle it when someone you love keeps doing things that hurt you? You’re uncertain if they’re doing this intentionally or not, but you know that it keeps happening and you’d much rather that it not. Part of you wants to leave, but you love the person so much that at the same time, you don’t want to go. What should you do when you love someone dearly and they won’t stop harming you? That has happened to me, and to be quite honest, I think that might vary by circumstance, but it all boils down to the same answer.

My mother used to tell me that, “Hurting people hurt other people.” And I think I understand this idea more now than I did back then. I used to think, “Yeah, sure, I get that, but why do they have to hurt me?” Recently I learned the answer; the people that are hurting you may not realize it, and even if they do, they don’t truly know any other way to handle what is hurting them. Think of it this way: have you ever seen an injured animal? And the more someone tries to help it, the more the animal lashes out. It’ll scratch, bite, kick, etc., just because it’s in pain. It’s like that.

As the person who is being hurt by the individual who is in pain (even if they are unaware of it), you have to forgive them for it and love them anyway. If you cannot handle them lashing out, then you have to be the bigger person, and remove yourself from the situation. It’s easier said than done, as many things are, but it’s possible–I’ve done it before.

What is it about interpersonal relationships that makes us behave so irrationally? Why do we dedicate ourselves so fully to a single person? Giving everything we can possibly fathom to someone who may or may not take care of it? Some of us try to “save” our hearts from ever becoming so involved in everything about another person. Unfortunately, love tends to sneak up on us when we least expect it and take up extended residency in our hearts. Doesn’t it? I think it does.